


don't wake me up before noon

by smigwig



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Kiyoko is a good friend, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, Mentions of addiction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rarepair, Sugamama, They're In Love Your Honor, and they were ROOMMATES, kuroo lives don't matter, nothing graphic tho, oikawa is mentally twelve years old, slow burn kinda?, spaceboy oikawa, suga is the devil, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smigwig/pseuds/smigwig
Summary: Sugawara needs a roommate, like, right now. Oikawa is happy to fill the position.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, background Bokuaka, background Kuroken, background ushiten - Relationship, other background relationships ;)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 55





	1. Sexy Molecules and Coffee Jelly

**Author's Note:**

> IS THIS WHO WE ARE?? IS THIS WHAT WE REPRESENT??? yeah apparently 
> 
> i don't know why or how i got here, but i am now writing stories about two volleyball dudes who literally interacted ONE TIME in the anime,,, but to be fair you're here too so you can't judge me :>
> 
> anyways, enjoy this au that's been living in my head rent free lol  
> more chapters to come ;)
> 
> -smigwig

Sugawara Koushi, as a general rule, was a caring person. It was a fact of life; the sky was blue, water was wet, and Sugawara was caring. By extension to this fundamental trait, he was also a worrier. 

Freshman year of university had been filled with worry. He knew he should have been joining clubs, making new friends, and partying on the weekends like everyone in college seemed to, but each time he tried to enjoy himself, he felt guilt and anxiety gnaw at his stomach. It made people worry about him. Daichi made it a point to drag him out for coffee or lunch every few days. Asahi, bless his big, sweet heart, studied with him in the library on the condition that they’d take a break and go do something fun afterwards. Kiyoko invited him to group study sessions and, when she was feeling mischievous, brought him along on dates that frat boys aggressively cornered her into accepting. His kohai visited him when they could and messaged him when they couldn’t, Noya and Tanaka in particular assaulting his phone with texts begging for pictures of Kiyoko and her new haircut. His mother chided him daily. “The full college experience would be good for you, Bambi. Take a break from all your work and go drinking like a boy your age should!”

It wasn’t that Suga didn’t  _ want _ to have fun, because he did. Rather, he felt as though he literally wasn’t  _ able _ to. Whether he was chugging from a red Solo cup, or swaying on a dancefloor, or even drunkenly making out with some decently attractive guy or another, he couldn’t shake that on-edge feeling. It was an itching worry, one that pestered him day in and day out.  _ Is she okay? Is she falling back into old habits? Are they taking good care of her? Maybe I should go visit her, like, right now. She’s too far away.  _

That’s why the very second he was allowed to, Suga packed his things and moved out of the freshmen dorms and into an apartment. It was closer to where his mother was staying and farther from his classes. This was fine; he could still take the bus or underground transit and be at his lectures in as little as fifteen minutes, but Suga used to live just a five minute walk away from his morning classes. It was an adjustment, but it was the least of his problems. 

At the top of the list of things he needed to fix immediately was the fact that he couldn’t pay the rent on his own. This part of town was far too expensive for even his hourly wages and generous tips at the bar he worked at, but he was determined to live near his mother. You see, he couldn’t move to a cheaper area. If Suga wanted any sort of peace of mind, he  _ had _ to be here. But he couldn’t pick up any more shifts at the bar without sacrificing his grades, the very same grades his mother begged him to uphold for the sake of his future. He sure as hell couldn’t ask his aunt for 30,000 yen every month, not when money was as tight as it was. Dipping into his already sparse savings was out of the question. The account would be dry within 6 months, and he’d be left with nothing. 

That left one option: find a roommate, and find one  _ quick. _

It happened on a Sunday night. Having gotten back from his lab internship, Oikawa was, once again, hunched over paperwork. Dorm renewals, university mail, tax files, tuition forms. The stream was never-ending and he was dead tired. Next to him, his mini coffee maker made a strange gurgling sound that didn’t sound right. When he checked to see if his coffee was done, he found grains floating at the top. The machine made a distraught beeping noise. Oikawa’s upper lip curled into a disgusted snarl.  _ This must be a sign. _

The door unlocked and Kuroo strutted in smelling like cheap body wash, with only a small towel hanging off his hips. Oikawa groaned. “You have too much faith in that tiny thing,” he said. In response, his roommate just shook his dripping hair to dry it, much in the way a dog would. Droplets of water splattered onto Oikawa’s medical record as Kuroo struck a Herculean pose. Iwa-chan’s voice sounded in Oikawa’s head:  _ You’ve finally met your match for Biggest Douchebag. Now you’ll understand what I’ve had to deal with for the last nineteen years, Trashykawa. _

“Consider yourself lucky. Anyone would kill to witness that wardrobe malfunction,” he declared, still flexing every muscle as he stiffly hobbled over to his dresser. 

“Mhm,” Oikawa muttered absently, attempting to soak up the water with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. The paper’s ink began to bleed, unsalvageable. He clicked his tongue. “God dammit. You know we can’t use the fax machine at this hour.” 

The man smirked as he shrugged on a wifebeater, looking very unapologetic. “Just do it tomorrow.”

Oikawa made a sound of frustration. “I gotta finish this stuff tonight.”

“No, you don’t. You have the whole summer to sort it all out,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “I get that this is, like, your whole thing, or whatever, but seriously. Just call it quits for tonight. You’ll work yourself to death.”

And he knew that it came from a place of genuine concern, but god, Oikawa hated it when people told him that. His sister, telling him to take a weekend off to have fun with his nephew. His professors, telling him to take it easy with the extra credit opportunities. His coach, telling him to go home instead of practicing till dark. His physical therapist, telling him to keep his weight off his right knee. Iwa-chan, telling him to  _ eat something, dammit. _

He was not ‘working himself to death’. He was working a perfectly appropriate amount, thank you very much. He couldn’t ease up on the gas; how could he? How could he when people like Kageyama Tobio and Ushijima Wakatoshi existed, with all their innate skill and superiority? No, Oikawa couldn’t let up. He was no prodigy or genius. Surpassing those freaks required every bit of effort and energy he had in him. 

“Don’t worry about me, Tetsu-chan. Worry about that horrendously obvious come stain on your shirt,” he said, sliding his eyes away from his work to rake up his roommate’s body, mock flirtatious. 

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “As if I’d fall for tha- oh, shit.”

“Disgusting old man.”

“Bratty little pervert.” Kuroo snagged the coffee from the broken coffee machine and took a sip, then promptly choked. “Blegh! What the hell is this, man?”

“Dinner,” Oikawa said, grinning into his hand. 

“It’s twelve,” Kuroo pointed out. 

“A midnight snack, then.”

Kuroo’s embarrassing ringtone rang from his bed, a seductive voice singing about a milkshake and boys in her yard. The man grinned and swayed his hips to the song as he went to answer. Oikawa would have made fun of him, but he was too belting out, “Damn right, it’s better than yours, I can teach you, but I’d have to charge-”

“Hello?” Kuroo said into the phone. “Oh, hey, Thighchi-san… no, no I would never… an apartment? Nah, I’m stayin’ in the dorms. Way cheaper, you know how it goes… ah, he needs a roommate? Oh, yeah… mhm… I can ask around, if you want. Oh, that reminds me.” Kuroo pulled his ear away from the phone and covered the mic with his hand. “Oikawa, didn’t you wanna move out of the dorms this summer?”

Oikawa raised a suspicious brow. “Yeah? You got somewhere in mind?”

Kuroo took his hand off the mic. “You still there? Yeah, my roommate might be interested… Oikawa Tooru- wait, wait, don’t hang up!”

Oikawa pouted. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“Just give him a- no, I’m not trying to get rid of him. Do I seem that shady to you? Actually, don’t answer that. Hold on, hold on- okay… okay… mhm… here, just talk to him.” Kuroo sighed and handed Oikawa the cellphone. 

“Oikawa Tooru speaking,” he sang. “Who might this be?” 

A tired groan sounded from the other end. “Sawamura Daichi.”

_ Captain of the Karasuno volleyball club. You know, the one that beat you and took your spot at nationals, _ his brain supplied helpfully. “Oh, Daichi-san! How lovely to hear from you again!” He said through gritted teeth. 

“Sure it is,” Daichi said with a grumble. “Kuroo said you’re looking for an apartment?”

“I am. My living situation right now is…” Oikawa’s gaze flitted to Kuroo, who was now busying himself with doodling sexy, humanoid molecules on the whiteboard they shared, “Not the best for my focus.” The dark haired man labelled the big, curvy compound with electrons for hair ‘Tetsurou’ and the skinny compound with long hydrocarbon legs ‘Flattykawa’. Oikawa felt deeply wounded.

“Which one is the distracting one, you or the cat?”

Oikawa frowned at Kuroo and threw his Advanced Astronomy textbook at him. It knocked against his head with a  _ thud. _ Kuroo slid limply to the ground, mumbling something about a door and insecurity. “I think we’re both at fault. We kind of… how did Iwa-chan say it? ‘Feed off of each other’s energy’?”

“Oh. Well then…”

“Hm?”

Something shuffled from Daichi’s end of the line. “Put that shit away, Bokuto! What part of ‘no volleyball practice in our room’ do you not understand?!” He yelled away from the receiver. There was someone screeching from farther away. Daichi sighed again. “Sorry about that. What was I saying?”

“Apartment.” 

“Oh, yeah. My friend, Sugawara Koushi- you remember him?”

“Refreshing-san? Of course.”

“Wh-? Anyways, he’s moved into an apartment in a nice part of the city, but he needs a roommate to make the rent,” Daichi explained.

Oikawa hummed, thinking. “Why can’t he just-”

“Move to a cheaper place?” Daichi finished. 

“Yeah, that.”

“He’s really stuck on that spot. It’s… a family thing.”

“Oh, I see. Personal reasons,” Oikawa mused. It’s not like he had any room to judge. The whole reason he wanted to move out of the dorms was to get away from the suffocation of it all, his parents’ expectation included. “How much would my half of the cost be?” 

“It’s kind of up there. Around 55,000 yen for the two bedroom.”

Oikawa considered this. That  _ was _ pretty expensive, but the area was bound to be nice. “Ah, well, this is Tokyo. It can’t be helped.”

Daichi made a surprised sound. “Are you saying-?”

“Well, I’d have to see the place first. How about him and I exchange numbers so Refreshing-san can send me the details?”

“Ah! Yeah, thank you, Oikawa-san, you have no idea how much he’s going to appreciate this.”

He fluffed his hair and turned his nose high up in the air. “Please, Dai-chan, continue to sing my praise.”

Across the room, Kuroo snorted. “Oh, Oikawa-sama, spare me a piece of that flat ass, you sexy door!”

“Excuse you, my ass isn’t flat! It’s toned, okay?! TONED!”

  
  


Suga stifled a yawn as he shook up the ingredients to a cocktail. He really needed to start taking naps before his night shifts. Luckily, it was a Sunday- Suga checked his watch. Scratch that, technically it was a Monday. But regardless, the bar was pretty much empty, save for the three women probably coming from a fancy event judging by their silk dresses and jewelry, the old construction worker who always came at odd hours of the night, and a quietly moping Akaashi. 

“I promise he’s not rejecting you. He’s just dense enough to believe you’d never reciprocate his feelings,” Suga said, pouring out daiquiri into identical glasses and cutting up some fresh slices of lime. 

“I always thought Bokuto-san was a simple creature,” Akaashi sighed. Suga laughed and earned a glare. 

“He is! All he thinks about is volleyball and you.”

“Well I wish he’d think harder.” Akaashi crossed his arms and pouted just the slightest bit. The childish display was so strange on his normally blank face that Suga burst into laughter again. “You find my suffering funny.”

“I find  _ you _ funny,” Suga corrected, punching his friend’s arm good-naturedly. Akaashi winced. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Suga brought the drinks over to the group of women, who slurred their thanks. The woman with the gold and emerald earrings took a tentative sip. 

“Oh,” she said, staring at the glass with wonder. “Oh, my.” Suga ended up with a hefty tip shoved aggressively into his hand and three new loyal customers. 

“Anyways, what were we talking about?” He asked as he wiped his hands, damp with condensation from chilled glass, against his apron. 

“My pain.”

“Oh, right.” Suga set the dessert menu in front of his Akaashi, who picked it up like it weighed fifty kilos. “Try the dango. Tendou-kun’s back there in the kitchen right now, so it’ll probably be the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.” As if on cue, the sound of a pan clattering against tile and a quiet  _ ‘shit’ _ echoed from the kitchen. 

Blue eyes glowered at him. “You’re not the angel everyone thinks you are,” Akaashi said, unimpressed. 

Suga batted his eyelashes. “What could you possibly mean?”

“Blowjob references and expensive sweets. You’re preying on a heartbroken man. You money predator,” he mumbled. 

Suga chuckled. “Hey, no pressure from this guy. I can take back the menu, if you want.”

“No. I haven’t decided what I want yet.” Akaashi studied the menu through narrowed eyes. His solemnity made Suga positively  _ cackle. _

From the pocket of his apron, Suga’s beat-up cell phone vibrated. He took a quick scan around the bar to make sure the customers were satisfied before he pulled it out and answered the call. “Hey, Daichi.”

“Hi, Suga. Sorry for calling you while you’re working,” Daichi said, sounding tired. 

“It’s fine, things are slow tonight. You okay?”

He snorted.  _ “I’m _ fine. I’m more worried about you.”

Suga smiled and rolled his eyes. “I told you this morning, everything is-”

“I just got off the phone with Oikawa,” Daichi cut in. Suga paused. 

“Uh. Like, Oikawa Tooru?”

“From Seijoh. Yeah.” Oh. So that’s why he sounded at the end of his wit. 

“I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Suga said with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure where this was going.

Daichi snorted again. “We’re not. I was asking Kuroo if he knew anyone who might want to move in with you, and guess what?”

Suga’s fingers drummed the edge of the counter. He always got anxious when Daichi decided to draw things out for dramatic effect. “...What?”

“Oikawa, his roommate, was interested. What kind of weird chain of coincidences even is that? I can barely stand-”

Unfortunately, he was no longer listening to Daichi’s rant. His heart stuttered with hope. Would he be able to afford his apartment? Was someone willing to live with him and pay half of that hefty rent? Granted, it was Oikawa, but that little detail didn’t matter, not really. He’d finally be able to fulfill that old promise, the one that he made all those years ago with just his pinky finger.

“Suga? You still there?” Daichi said from the other end of the phone. 

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I got distracted for a sec. Work stuff,” he lied. Across the counter, Akaashi raised an eyebrow. 

“My bad, my bad, I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to tell you I gave him your number so you guys could talk about it, maybe schedule a day when he could come look at your place, I dunno.”

“Oh, yeah! Thanks, Daichi. I owe you a big one, okay?”

“Make me an Old Fashioned next time I see you at work and we’ll call it even,” he joked. 

“Of course, as many as you want, they’ll be on me.”

“Alright, alright. Lunch tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Suga hung up, still in shock and trying to decide if he should be elated about a possible flatmate or terrified because it was  _ Oikawa fucking Tooru. _

“Coffee jelly.” Akaashi’s sudden words nearly made Suga jump out of his own skin.

“Come again?” He said with a nervous laugh.

Akaashi handed him the menu, unfazed. “Tell Tendou-san I want coffee jelly.”


	2. Amigurumi and Indoor Jungles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent way too long researching apartments in tokyo for this chapter lmaoo

“Koushi, your eyes are red.”

“Ah, yeah. It’s, um, because of the pollen.” Suga rubbed at his eyes, his eyelids feeling heavy.

“Right. Pollen. In the inner city,” his mother said, clicking her tongue. She reached out to smooth down his cowlick. It immediately sprang back up. “I told you to start sleeping more.”

“I did! I took a nap yesterday!”

“Well it’s either weed or exhaustion, and I know what weed smells like,” she laughed. She took her son’s face in her hand and brushed her thumb along one of his dark circles. “You’ve been working too hard.”

Suga sighed, leaning his cheek into her palm. He could smell that touch of lavender perfume she always sprayed on the inside of her wrist. “It’s just for a few more weeks, Mom. Things are kind of crazy right now,” he murmured, letting his eyes slip closed. He felt his mother’s hand rubbing his back now, the action soothing compared to how worn out he felt. 

“This isn’t about the apartment thing again, is it?” She asked, only to be met with guilty silence. “Oh, Bambi…”

“It’s okay. I’m on top of it all. M’not trying to get evicted by the first payment.” Suga leaned forward to rest his head against her shoulder. “It’s just a little while longer.”

“Koushi.” His mother sounded stern even as she continued to rub his back. “I told you I didn’t want you moving farther from school.”

“It’s just a few stops away-”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

And Suga knew. There wasn’t much more he could do for her, not really. He and his aunt were paying for the best services they could find for his mother. Rehab, therapy, support groups, anything that might help. Most of it wasn’t covered by healthcare, so the expenses stacked up all too quickly. He came to visit several times a week and called her when he couldn’t. But at the end of the day, he could only do so much. Whether his mother recovered or not depended on her and her alone. 

He knew this. And yet… 

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just need to be here.”

His mother sighed and patted the back of his head. “I know. I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, because he felt responsible for everything. He always did. 

“It’s not your fault. You know it’s not your fault.”

Tears pricked Suga’s eyes, but he was not going to cry in front of his mother. He needed to be strong, he needed to be steady for both of them. That was how this worked. “Yeah,” was all he said, for fear that if he continued his voice would crack and his tears would spill over. 

“I should be the one saying sorry. You know that.” Her fingers ran through his hair. “Forcing you to grow up so fast. _I_ should be the one taking care of _you.”_

Suga’s head jerked up to look at her. “No, no, no, I’m fine,” he rushed to say. “Look at me.” In demonstration, he grinned as brightly as he could and prayed she didn’t notice how watery his eyes were. “You did a great job. Even after everything, you made sure I turned out okay. Now it’s my turn to care for you.”

His mother studied him, a strange, sad look on her face. He didn’t know what she was looking for in him, but she must have found it because she softened and pulled him into a hug, tucking his head under her chin. “I love you, okay? More than anything else in the world.”

Suga wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, too.”

“And I promise,” she started, pulling away to hold out her pinky, “that once I’m out of here, I’ll take care of you like I was supposed to back then.”

He stared at her finger, then took her outstretched hand in both of his. “You don’t have to do that, Mom. Just focus on getting better. Don’t worry about me,” he said. 

She laughed, and it was just a little bit broken. “I’m your mother, silly. I’ll always worry about you. It’s my job.” 

“Well, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Suga said, smiling with as much genuinity as he could muster. His mother tweaked his nose, her own lips quirking up. 

“I made something for you,” she said, changing the subject and turning away to dig through her bedside drawer. Suga peeked over her shoulder. “Ta-dah!” She handed him a small knit deer amigurumi. 

He felt a rush of warmth. When she did things like this for him, he felt younger again, the way he did before everything went to shit. It felt simple. “Is this what I look like to you?” He lifted the toy up so she could see it side-by-side with his face. 

“Pretty much,” she said, looking all too smug. “Kentaro-san, you know, the lady in the wheelchair? She taught me how to make amigurumi. Pretty good for my first try, eh?”

“The button eyes are way too big for the head!”

“I think it’s quite accurate.” She stifled her giggles.

“Why are _you_ laughing? I got it from your side of the family!”

Suga’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he groaned. Visiting hours were almost over anyways, but still. Why did his time with his mother always have to get cut short? “Sorry, gimme a second.” He pulled it out, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw Kiyoko’s name. She wasn’t really one to call people. If she wanted to contact someone, she’d do it by text or by showing up to their house uninvited. “Hello?”

“Suga-san. There is a man in front of your building who has been buzzing you for the last five minutes. It’s creepy. Should I call the cops?”

 _A man… in front of my building? Do I owe someone money or something?_ He checked his watch and then he remembered. “Oh, shit. Fuckfuckfuck,” he cursed, running a hand through his hair and gathering his things (including the stuffed animal), moving at record speeds. His exhaustion was overrun by a bought of panic

“Is that a yes?”

“No! No, I was supposed to let him in… crap. I’ll call you back,” he said, hanging up. He checked his notifications to see three missed calls from Oikawa, who he put on silent due to his habit of spamming him texts while he was trying to study. 

Suga leaned over and pecked his mother on the cheek. “Sorry, Mom, I totally forgot to do something. I’ll come back on Wednesday, love you, bye!”

The lady lifted a hand, “Koushi, baby, slow down-”

He was already halfway down the hallway. 

“Sugawara-san says he is coming.” A flat voice sounded from behind Oikawa, who definitely did not jump and nearly piss himself. He turned to see a beautiful, vaguely familiar-looking woman staring at him through thin-wired glasses. _How long had she been standing there?_

“Long enough to call him and ask if he had a stalker,” she answered. Oikawa realized he said his thought out loud. Her steely blue eyes skewered him like a kebab. “Don’t worry, he didn’t say yes. I’m not going to call the police.” 

“Oh. No, that wouldn’t be ideal,” he said, this time intentionally. 

Silence stretched between them, making him squirm a little and prompting him to take out his phone and scroll as she stared at him impassively. She was sizing him up, clear as day, and he wondered if he should ask her for her number. She was very pretty, the kind of pretty that made you accidentally say your thoughts out loud, even if she was too cold to be his type. 

“So…” he started, trying to break the awkward atmosphere that she created and didn’t seem to have any intentions of getting rid of. “Are you Suga-chan’s girlfriend?”

“I’m gay,” the woman said bluntly. She did not stop staring at him, but she did have a glint of humor in her eyes.

“Oh,” he said. Again. “Then… where have I seen you before?”

“I don’t know. I have never seen you. Are you really not a stalker?” 

Oikawa gaped. He knew he left his dorm looking gorgeous and put-together, like every potential-roommate should. He had a mirror next to his door for that very purpose. He refused to be taken for a creep. “Do I _look_ like a stalker?”

The woman didn’t blink. “I don’t know. They come in all shapes and sizes. You seemed very suspicious standing there and repeatedly ringing for my friend to let you in.”

“Because this was the agreed upon time!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How do I know _you’re_ not a stalker? Suga-chan must have his fair share of admirers.” _Not more than me, though,_ he thought smugly. 

“Because he gave me a customized key.” She held up a key painted pink with a white floral pattern. 

“You could be a crazy ex,” Oikawa said.

“I’m gay.”

“Suspicious-”

The sound of soles flying across concrete made him break his scrutinizing. He turned to see Suga running towards him, his ashen hair mussed and his cheeks flushed from exertion. “I am so, so sorry,” he said through small puffs of air once he caught up to the two. “Please don’t reconsider this whole thing!” The sight was too adorable for Oikawa to be annoyed with his lack of punctuality, and any leftover petty jealousy from past volleyball games disappeared. It honestly wasn’t fair how easily he was disarmed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Oikawa assured. “I got to meet your crazy ex. She still has your key, Suga-chan.”

Suga blinked, uncomprehending, before bursting into laughter. “You’re funny!”

 _He has a nice laugh. I hope he does that often,_ Oikawa found himself thinking, even though he didn’t exactly know why he was laughing. _I don’t remember him being so… cute._

“Anyways, I’ll let you two in. Thanks for calling me, Kiyoko-san,” he said. “I always lose track of time when I’m with my mom.”

“It’s quite alright. How is she?” The woman, Kiyoko, asked. The name clicked in Oikawa’s brain and he remembered her as the Karasuno team’s old manager. The memory soured slightly. He still wasn’t fully over that defeat, no matter how many times Iwaizumi smacked him and told him it didn’t matter anymore. 

Suga scanned a small card and pulled the door open for them. “She’s good, she’s good. Getting better every day.” He held out a small amigurumi deer and squished it a little. “Isn’t it cute?”

Kiyoko took it in her perfectly manicured hands, enchanted. “She made this?”

“Mhm!” Suga turned to Oikawa and pointed around the entrance. It was polished and sleek with shiny floors and modern furniture. The air was chilly and the atmosphere felt impersonal. It reminded Oikawa of his parents’ house. _Off to a bad start._ “So this is the lobby. The stairs are on the left, but my place is on the tenth floor, so I never really use them. Uhm, reception is over there,” he pointed at an unmanned counter, “but they’re only there from, like, noon to two, so if you need to talk to someone, you’re probably better off just contacting the landlord directly. He’s pretty nice.” 

They got into an elevator, Kiyoko still enraptured with the stuffed animal like it was something precious. As they went up, Suga continued. “There’s a lot of nice places around here. There’s a cafe and a nice barbeque spot on this block, and the bar I work at is only a few blocks away.”

“Ooh, you’re a bartender? If I stop by while you’re there, do I get free drinks?” Oikawa asked hopefully. Free alcohol was one of the great joys of his world. 

“Nope,” Suga said, popping the ‘p’ and grinning. “That job is a gem that I don’t wanna lose. But I can make you any drink you dream up! People usually get boring drinks, which is boring for me, too.” He sent a meaningful look at Kiyoko. 

“I drink to get drunk, not to taste the rainbow,” she said monotonously. 

Suga makes an offended noise that has Oikawa chuckling. “Why are you here, anyways?” Suga said with an accusatory pout. 

Kiyoko averted her eyes and ducked her head. “...I need advice.” 

“Oh… is this about-”

“Yes.”

Oikawa looked between the two for clues and found none. Then, the elevator dinged and they got off, walking down a hallway until Suga stopped in front of a door with a little cat plushie hanging from the doorknob. He fiddled with his fingers a little nervously, and Kiyoko got impatient, unlocked the door (using her prized customized key, of course), and let herself in. 

“Uh, yeah. So this is my place,” he said, holding the door open for Oikawa. “I hope you like it.” His brow was knitted all worriedly, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, just a little, and his wide eyes were hopeful, and… 

_God, he’s really cute like this._ “Don’t be so shy, Suga-chan, I’m sure it’s- oh.”

‘Oh’ was right. The air was warm and fragrant and lots of sunlight filtered through opened windows with their curtains drawn back, but those things barely registered compared to the sheer amount of _greenery,_ the shades ranging from delicate pastels and deep, heady colors. There were tall plants standing proudly in pots, smaller ones sitting on counters and shelves, overgrown ones cascading from the ceiling, spiky cactuses resting on the windowsill. The area was open enough to not be classified as a jungle, but it was full of life anyways. The contrast was stark compared to the rest of the building. 

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Oikawa heard from behind him. “I don’t have to keep all of them, it’s just a hobby, really.”

“No,” Oikawa said, grasping at a hanging vine. Its leaves were cool and smooth. “They’re perfect.”

“You… you like them?” Suga said, full of disbelief. 

“That’s what I said,” Oikawa replied with childish bite. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Kiyoko piped up from the kitchen, where she was surveying the contents of her friend’s fridge. “Yes. He went way overboard with the plants.”

“I just think they’re neat, okay?” Suga whined to her. “Don’t worry about the upkeep or anything, Oikawa-san. I’m not a fan of bugs and I’m not a messy person, either.”

“Oh, thank god. My roommate at the dorms is a pig. The textbook example of the issue with male hygiene habits. That, combined with the roach problem our building has, and it’s just…” Oikawa shivered at the memories. 

Suga laughed, and the other man perked up at the sound. “Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page about that. Anything beyond a little bit of clutter, and I go on a cleaning rampage. Regardless of if it’s my house or not.”

“I can attest to that,” Kiyoko’s muffled voice from the kitchen said. 

Suga began showing Oikawa around his apartment. The living area wasn’t very big, as was consistent with most things in Tokyo, but it was cozy (and he had cable television). The compact kitchen looked pretty new, save for the clunky microwave Suga swore he’d replace soon. A small rectangular table served as the dining area, as the space would be too cramped with a proper dinner table. 

“My room is over here on the right,” he pointed out, “and yours would be over there. We’d share a bathroom. I hope that’s not a problem for you.”

“It’s way better than the communal bathrooms,” Oikawa replied, not bothering to hide the distaste on his face at the thought. He despised those damn bathrooms. They stank of man, and not in a sexy way. 

Suga made a sound between a giggle and a snort and raised a hand to cover his mouth. Oikawa wished he would let them come out freely.

“What? I like clean showers,” he said with a pompous hair flip. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” Suga said between giggles. “I just- haha- I always remember hearing some poor dude get railed in the stall next to mine this one time.”

“Oh my god.” Oikawa felt a suggestive smirk grow on his face. “Did Suga-chan listen in? Better yet, did you join?”

A similar smirk graced Suga’s angelic features. “Even better. I sang a sexy song to help get the mood going.” 

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“He did,” Kiyoko called out. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not the best singer,” Suga sighed. Oikawa doubled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed. “But don’t worry! If you ever choose to bring a partner home while I’m here, I won’t get involved if you guys stay quiet.”

Oikawa imagined Suga belting out songs about making love from the kitchen while he was grinding down on someone in his bed. The thought made him cackle very unattractively. “That's- heh- much appreciated.”

Once they settled down, Suga led him back to the living room, done with the tour. “And that’s it. I know it’s kinda small, but it’s-”

“When can I move in?” Oikawa interrupted. 

Suga looked taken aback. His doe eyes widened with surprise and his lips fell into an ‘o’ shape. “You’ve decided?”

“Yeah.” Maybe it was the lush plants, or the way their scent tinged the air, or the warmth from the sunlight, or the soft, cloud-like couch, or maybe it was Suga’s laughter, but something about this place felt homey. Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time a place made him feel like this. The dorms were stuffy and suffocating. His parents’ home in Miyagi was cold and rigid and oppressive. The Iwaizumi household was welcoming and warm, but he always felt like an outsider. The closest place he could think of was the volleyball gym, but as comfortable as even that was, it was a place of competition and heartbreak and a constant feeling of inadequacy. “I could live here,” he said, and he meant it. 

Suga’s eyes softened and he smiled, and good god he looked like something sent from heaven. It lit a warm feeling in Oikawa’s chest, one he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one:  
> kiyoko: im gay 
> 
> i hope u enjoyed!! i'll update again soon hehe
> 
> comments n feedback are super duper appreciated :D


	3. Rosé and Road Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update time yayyy  
> sorry this chapter took so long, i may or may not have suffered through writers block and i didn't want to give u guys something i wasn't proud of
> 
> this chapter includes the portrayal of an unhealthy relationship between a parent and a child, as well as alcohol consumption as a means of coping. if you think this may upset or trigger you, please exercise discretion!!
> 
> enjoy hehee :)
> 
> -smigwig

Oikawa roughly slid a hand down his face. He hated calls like these. They made the idea of completely unplugging from life and living as a hermit at the foot of Mount Fuji sound so very tempting. He would gladly fight off bears and live off wild berries and bugs if it meant he never had to take these calls. Bugs are supposed to be high in protein anyways, right? 

Imagining the vomit-inducing crunch of beetles did nothing to erase the voice at the other end of the line. “Why am I paying your tuition if all you’re going to do is waste your time,” his mother said. He could practically feel the chill of her aura through the phone. 

Oikawa decided it would be wise not to point out that his athletic and academic scholarships were funded by the university. “It’s not a waste, Mother. I’m learning a lot,” he said instead, fighting to keep his voice even and calm. It was always hard, at times like these, to lay down and take it like he was taught. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, submission having been drilled into his head since he was in diapers, but being a doormat went against his very nature. 

Sometimes he wondered if things would be a little less painful if he were fundamentally made for this sort of thing, the way his parents were. But all it took was recalling his mother’s dull eyes and his father’s spike-straight posture to remember that he enjoyed being a sentient  _ human being _ with, you know,  _ feelings.  _

He heard the woman sigh. “I’m doing this for your own good,” she started.  _ Here we go again, _ Oikawa thought. He was seriously considering beating his phone against the edge of his desk, or something equally as violent. “Your father is very angry with you. Be grateful it’s me telling you this and not him. If you don’t appease him soon… you know how he is.”

“I’m a starter on the team and top of my class.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Her words were sharp and biting. “What good is that if you’re in the wrong discipline?”

Oikawa wanted to scream. He didn’t, of course, but the urge was there and it was strong.

“You’re confused, Tooru,” she continued. “You’ve been confused for the past year. And now you’re moving to a new apartment to what? Focus on these aimless endeavors?”

At that, Oikawa felt his patience snap. His goals weren’t aimless. They were what he wanted,  _ really wanted, _ and he’d work day and night to achieve them. He was not confused about this. He’d always known it. Astronomy was his everything, on par with his love for volleyball. The field was growing every day, with more and more demands for physicists full of passion for space. It was not aimless, and he refused to listen to anyone dismiss it, even someone who commanded obedience like his mother. “I’m sorry, someone is at my door,” he lied. His friends weren’t supposed to show up for another thirty minutes. “Let’s talk about this some other time.”

“Tooru,” his mother warned. A shiver ran down his spine, and he swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. 

He gathered himself just enough to choke out, “Goodbye, mother.” 

As soon as he clicked his phone off, he collapsed onto his bed as if he were made of jelly. He might as well be. It was widely agreed upon that Oikawa was not a person lacking in pride, but it all seemed to vanish when he was faced with the stone-cold wall that was his mother. That woman always had a way of removing his backbone and making him feel small. But she was right about one thing: this was a far more preferable experience to one involving his father. 

A low whistle sounded from the other side of the small, shipping box-filled room. “You okay there?”

Oh. He forgot Kuroo was here. 

Oikawa said nothing, choosing to stick out his hand instead. It was a silent request, one he didn’t make often. He just needed it, sometimes.

He heard Kuroo digging around in the gap between his mattress and the wall, where he kept his stash of alcohol and condoms. “I gotcha, man,” Kuroo said. He tossed over a small bottle of rosé that he stole from a hotel minibar at some rich kid’s party. Oikawa didn’t have the energy to make fun of him for keeping a drink meant for middle aged moms. Kuroo would probably just grin like the Cheshire Cat anyway and agree that he was, in fact, a mother of four beautiful (hypothetical) children, and oh, how he loved his (hypothetical) mini-van and hubby (also hypothetical). 

So instead Oikawa twisted open the bottle and drank. It was quiet, now; he appreciated that about Kuroo. The guy knew when to ask questions and when to back off, and now was a good time to back off. He’d badger Oikawa about it later, surely, but not right now, when the wound was still fresh and festering. 

Kuroo was good at reading people like that. 

“You want me to tell the others to come a little later instead?” He asked, not looking up from the mobile game Kenma introduced him to. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I just need a second,” Oikawa replied, his voice light and uncaring. He knew his friend would see through it in a heartbeat, but one must keep up appearances, right?

“‘Kay.”

So they sat there and passed time, Kuroo aggressively tapping at his phone and Oikawa sipping on cheap, pink wine. He felt his anxiety simmer down to a low, background hum as he looked around. All his things (he had a  _ lot _ of things) were packed inside cardboard boxes, the room lacking its usual offensive amount of color ever since he took down his sci-fi posters. He wondered if his posters and books would look the same on the walls of the apartment downtown, and got a hollow little feeling. He wasn’t attached to the dorms, really, but maybe he’d miss Kuroo and the way this room felt. Sure, Kuroo was a dirty old man, but he had his own feeling of ‘home’ to him. It wasn’t quite right, though, and it wasn’t made for Oikawa. They clashed a lot, fighting over stupid things and sending middle fingers each other’s ways. Oikawa remembered when they first came, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to college and moved their stuff into their tiny dorm room. From the first sleazy smirk and lazy raise of eyebrows, he knew Kuroo was going to be a pain in the ass. 

Kuroo was the type of genius who could get straight marks without even trying. He told a tale of how he aced the entrance exams to Nekoma while running on two hours of sleep. Kuroo didn’t study nearly as much as Oikawa did; he didn’t have to, really. It honestly didn’t make sense, the way someone going for a chemistry major could just  _ understand _ things in those ungodly difficult classes. The dude didn’t have to sit hunched over his desk all day to learn the material, which irked Oikawa to no end. Not just because he was bitter about seeing other people succeed, but because Kuroo used his free time to distract Oikawa. The anthropomorphic molecule drawings on the whiteboard, now complete with the addition of fine details, attested to this. 

So, as close as he was to Kuroo, Oikawa knew they would never really be ‘home’ to one another. Kuroo already had a person he could call home, anyways. 

As if on cue, Kuroo’s phone pinged with a text, and he bolted up from his bed and flew out the door, crying, “KYANMAAAA!”

A whack was heard down the hallway, followed by a few consecutive  _ thumps. _ Kuroo must have fallen down the stairs again, that dumbass. The image of a sore bump on the man’s forehead prompted Oikawa to get up and follow, eager to see the results of the injury. “Oh, Ken-chan ~”

“Don’t call me that.” Kenma rounded the corner, along with Iwaizumi and a distressed Kuroo. 

“Kenma, all I want is to give you a kiss,” he whined, clutching onto Kenma’s sleeve. Sure enough, there was a pink mark on the side of Kuroo’s forehead, already starting to bruise.

Kenma’s upper lip curled. “Disgusting,” he said, even as he slid his smaller hand into Kuroo’s palm, interlaced their fingers, and brought them to press against his lips. The gesture had Kuroo swooning, hearts in his eyes.

Oikawa smiled mischievously at Iwaizumi, then puckered up. “Iwa-chan, don’t you want to give me a kiss?”

The man glared and cracked his knuckles. “I’ll deck you,” he said, fully prepared to follow through. 

“C’mon, just for old time’s sake,” Oikawa said, flinching away from his friend before he could get an uppercut to the jaw. 

“Fuck. No.” Iwaizumi sniffed. “You smell like alcohol, anyway. Drinking this early in the day?”

Oikawa averted his gaze. “Don’t be such a prude, it was just a little wine,” he said. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “Oh, come on, Iwa-chan! It’s classy!”

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with already.”

The group made quick work of the boxes, loading them into Kenma’s car and heading downtown (he was the only one with a car, having just moved into the city a few weeks ago in preparation for his first year of college). The drive consisted of Kenma’s surprisingly terrifying road rage and Kuroo’s horrible taste in music. Iwaizumi had snatched the auxiliary cord from him to play generic trap songs, but honestly, it was a huge step up from “Britney Spears’ Hottest Hits”. 

“So this is his place, huh,” Kenma said when they pulled up to Suga’s apartment complex. They stared at the tall building with wide eyes. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as the surrounding business buildings, but it still practically gleamed in comparison to the dorms. 

“Boujee as hell,” Kuroo said. 

Iwaizumi snorted. “Snobbykawa will fit right in.”

“Why am I being attacked right now?”

“Shut up, rich boy.”

“Jealousy isn’t very becoming of you, my fr- OW! What was that for?!”

The group started unloading the boxes and bringing them up to Suga’s apartment. Well, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Kuroo started unloading. Kenma opted to prop open doors, push elevator buttons, and carry smaller things as he watched his friends struggle. 

Suga was waiting for them with his door already open, his mini-greenhouse waiting inside. “Hi!” He greeted, helping Oikawa carry a particularly big box. 

“Sorry we’re late, Suga-chan,” Oikawa said. “Traffic was bad.” Kenma made a little grunt from behind him, apparently still irritated by the congestion caused by a car crash. It took an hour to bypass the whole thing and severely dampened his normally mellow mood. 

“It’s all good. I still have about an hour before I gotta go to work,” Suga said. “Do you guys want anything to drink? I can fix you tea or coffee.” 

“Could I just have some water, Sugawara-san?” Iwaizumi asked, his demeanor shifting from sullen to polite. 

“Sure thing! And please, just call me Suga.”

Kuroo appeared from nowhere, having already deposited his box into Oikawa’s bedroom. “Suga-san, you’ve sure got a nice place. And a crap ton of plants,” he said, reaching out to stupidly touch the cactus sitting on the windowsill. He pricked his finger and winced, as if that were not the expected outcome. For someone so intelligent, he really was dumb sometimes. 

Suga smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you! I really do love this apartment. I hope you’ll come to see it as home, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa looked around, his eyes catching the terracotta pots and the worn, gingham-patterned curtains. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said, a teasing tone to his voice to cover his sincerity and the oddly vulnerable feeling it always gave him.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Iwaizumi studying him, a funny look on his sharp, no-nonsense face. _He kinda looks constipated._ Oikawa turned to him and winked, and his best friend’s expression changed from thoughtful to disgusted in a matter of milliseconds. 

“Does anyone else want a drink?” Suga asked the room as he made his way to the kitchen. 

“Coffee,” Oikawa and Kuroo said in unison. Kenma grimaced. 

“Say ‘please’,” he said. 

“Please,” they amended. Suga smirked with approval when Oikawa tacked on a ‘darling’ to the end. 

“What kind of tea do you have?” Kenma asked. 

“Oh, a whole bunch. C’mere and pick, Kozume-san.”

Kenma followed Suga into the kitchen, mumbling something along the lines of ‘just Kenma’. Meanwhile, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi headed back down to the car to bring up the last of the boxes. As they stepped onto the elevator, Kuroo sidled up to Oikawa. 

“Sooo,” the bed-headed man started. “Suga-san, huh.”

“Isn’t he just a dear?” Oikawa said, placing a hand over his heart and gazing into the distance with wistful eyes. He was  _ so _ glad Suga was a more agreeable character and roommate than Kuroo.

“Don’t call him that,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s strangely demeaning when it’s in your voice.”

“Excuse you, my voice is perfectly humble, just as I am!”

_ “Anyways, _ Suga-san. He’s a cool guy,” Kuroo interrupted before the other two started bickering. “Cute, too.” Iwaizumi hummed in noncommittal agreement. 

“Stay away from my roommate, you dirty old grandpa! You’ve got Kenma, anyways,” Oikawa said, a little bewildered. Kuroo was a flirt, sure, but he was disgustingly in love with Kenma and never  _ really _ had eyes for anyone else.

“Oh, getting protective already, are we? Don’t worry, I don’t have any intention of swooping in and taking him.”

“Stop projecting, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa fired back. 

“And defensive, too? Oh, this is gonna be good. How long do you give them, Iwa-kun? Two months? Three?”

Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose. Oikawa knew that look; it meant a headache was well on its way due to being around two ‘dumbasses’, as he put it. “Stop egging him on. Jesus, we only just formally met the guy and you’re already trying to set Shittykawa up,” Iwaizumi said. 

“Actually, I’ve known him for a couple years through those volleyball training camps that Seijoh was never invited to,” Kuroo said, immediately turning his friends’ faces bitter with jealousy. The man simply leaned closer to his prey. “I’m pretty sure he’s into guys, Oikawa. Just so you know.”

Suga was into guys? Well, he did seem to have a Thing with the captain of Karasuno. It wasn’t really surprising, considering the lingering glances he sent to Daichi back then. But it didn’t matter! Oikawa was  _ not  _ going to hook up with his goddamn roommate. Nope. Roommates were widely-accepted as off limits, and for good reason. One-time hookups were sure to make for awkward aftermaths, and meaningful relationships were pretty much doomed when both parties didn’t have room to breathe. By all accounts, it was not a good idea. 

Besides, Oikawa had sworn off anything beyond one night stands since he graduated high school, and he was not planning on changing that policy any time soon. 

“I know what you want me to do with that information, and I’m letting you know right now that it’s never gonna happen,” he said with uncharacteristic firmness. Kuroo rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, whatever, I’m just saying. He’s  _ really  _ pretty. He has a fucking  _ beauty mark, _ for god’s sake,” Kuroo said, wiggling his eyebrows like an idiot, and as much as Oikawa wanted to disagree for the sole purpose of spite, he couldn’t. It was true, Suga was pretty. Oikawa didn’t really have a type, but if he did, he thought it would be something close to how Suga was. Pale hair and skin, doe-like eyes, pinkish lips, slender and elegant frame. He was pretty in the way that lovely things like flowers and dew drops were pretty. 

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Iwaizumi frowned at him as he unlocked Kenma’s car. “I feel like I should put a stop to this conversation before it turns into the two of you objectifying Suga-san.” 

  
  


Suga could feel Kenma’s eyes flicker towards him every now and then. The two were in the kitchen, Kenma sitting on a stool and Suga on the counter. The younger man was immersed in a game on his Nintendo Switch, but sometimes his gaze flitted up to get a good look at Suga. 

“You’re staring,” Kenma said suddenly, his voice soft. 

Suga tore his eyes from where Oikawa, Kuroo, and Iwaizumi were lugging cardboard boxes around. “Hm?”

“You’re staring at Tooru.” Kenma’s face was placid as he clicked away at his console. 

Suga felt his cheeks warm up. “Caught me red-handed,” he said, sheepishly grinning. “I mean… I’m observing. Yeah.”

“Observing his muscles?”

Indeed, Oikawa Tooru had some nice muscles that Suga would gladly observe. He was lean and his frame was built from years of service aces and precision sets. Suga had seen lots of nice bodies in volleyball locker rooms, so he could appreciate one when he saw it. That was all he was doing, though! Just appreciating. Just observing. He told Kenma this, and was rewarded with the slightest upwards twitch of lips on that otherwise blank face. 

“That’s really gay,” Kenma said. “Are you gay?”

Suga snorted. “Something like that. I don’t really care about labels.”

Kenma paused his game to look up at Suga with serious eyes. He took a long sip of his oolong tea, and in a solemn voice, he asked, “Do you like dick in your ass?” 

Suga sputtered, almost choking on the wad of gum he was chewing. He forced himself to cough it up because something told him that Kenma did not know how to execute the Heimlich Maneuver. He gathered himself, laughing and wheezing at once. “Oh my god,” he said between chuckles. “Warn a guy next time!”

Golden feline-like eyes peered at him, expectant. “Well? Do you?”

Filling a glass up with water to soothe his throat, Suga replied, “Yeah. Can’t say I don’t enjoy it.”

The other man hummed an affirmative and unpaused his game. “Same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hella headcanons in this im ashamed  
> \- kuroo only listens to early 2000s pop and his favorite artist is prob usher or destiny's child  
> \- kenma gets road rage but its kenma so it's like seeing a kitten hiss through a windshield  
> \- iwaizumi exclusively drinks water and nothing else idk he seems like that kind of guy
> 
> comments n feedback are super appreciated, they really brighten up my days *v*
> 
> -smigwig


End file.
